Jonah Connock is already demonstrating the qualities that define enduring songwriters: patience, curiosity, and a willingness to sit with difficult emotions long enough to understand them. His debut album, I Kept Your Secret, Saoirse, is a collection rooted in folk traditions yet unafraid to carve out its own contemporary identity, balancing sparse arrangements with deeply personal storytelling.
Drawing inspiration from artists such as Elliott Smith, Nick Drake, Neil Young, and John Martyn, Jonah crafts songs that feel intimate and unguarded, allowing silence, space, and subtlety to carry as much weight as melody and lyric. Written over an eighteen-month period and shaped through live performances, the record captures a young artist discovering his voice while remaining open to growth, change, and interpretation.
In this conversation, Jonah Connock reflects on songwriting as both craft and catharsis, the challenge of knowing when a song is finished, the influence of folk music on his approach to arrangement and storytelling, and what it means to release a debut album that documents not only a moment in time, but the beginning of a lifelong creative journey.
You’re still early in your career—what first pulled you toward songwriting as a way of expressing yourself?
I’ve always loved writing, and song-writing is a way of connecting with other people. Like anything, it takes work. Listening to music is a shared experience, and being able to contribute to that is what drew me to songwriting. Being able to write a song that resonates with other people, but also helps me make sense of my experiences.
When you were writing I Kept Your Secret, Saoirse, did you feel like you were trying to document a period of your life or make sense of it?
Some of the songs document experiences either I or people close to me were going through. But there are also songs which came from thoughts and feelings rather than actual experience. It definitely helped me understand and work through some emotions – putting something into words can give you a new perspective and help frame things differently. At times, it can definitely be a form of therapy for me. I think that gives the songs authenticity.
Your music sits in a folk tradition but feels contemporary in its production—how conscious are you of genre when you’re writing?
I’m influenced heavily by Elliott Smith, Nick Drake, Neil Young and John Martyn so no matter what I’m writing, folk is always in my head. Taking these songs into the studio, my producer felt it was important that the songs were very much my own. That’s where the contemporary feel comes in. I’d say it’s influenced by folk for sure, but very much my voice and my signature across these songs.
Many of your songs feel built around understatement rather than climax—do you ever feel tempted to “open up” the arrangements more?
Yes, especially having played in a band. So that’s coming next. This album was deliberately restrained, both to challenge myself – there’s nowhere to hide on performance – but also because it felt right.
You’ve mentioned notebooks full of unfinished lyrics—how do you decide when a song is actually complete?
That’s a great question. I’m not too sure, there’s definitely a feeling you get when you’re playing, like ‘this is where it needs to be’. Imperfection can also be what makes songs stand out. Sometimes you also have to put a song down and come back to it another time. I tend to ‘over-write’, so my songs start out very long – then I work on stripping them back.
How did your guitar playing style develop, and do you see it as more rhythmic foundation or expressive lead voice?
It moves in and out of both. I’ve been playing about 8 years – although in the first 3 I played classical guitar and didn’t practise much! Guitar really ‘got me’ or I ‘got it’ when I was around 15. I’d say both rhythm and lead are a big part of my writing style. This may shift as my style develops, but the album brought my attention to the intricacies of volume and tone when playing guitar vs in post-production, which helped me improve on both lead and rhythm.
The album carries a strong emotional consistency—was it written over a short period, or assembled from different stages of your life?
It was assembled from different stages of my life but written over 18 months so that brought a lot of emotional consistency into the songs. I’d played some of the songs at open mic nights, and that helped me develop elements within them. Even now, I play them differently live to how I did a year ago. Songs change with you, I think.
Do you think of yourself more as a storyteller, or as someone capturing emotional snapshots?
This album is definitely the product of my emotional landscape, but at heart I’m a storyteller. I like to look back over my experiences and view them through different perspectives. I also find stepping into other people’s shoes really interesting, trying to understand their experiences and emotional responses. I guess my love of literature is always going to come into the way I write in that sense.
The production is very stripped back—what does “enough” sound like to you in the studio?
Enough was when it felt full without being busy – or too intense. There was a natural balance between the vocals and the instruments. I love how ‘I Kept Your Secret’ turned out, but next time in the studio, enough will definitely be more.
How important is silence and space in your music, not just sound?
Just as important. That’s the folk talking! There is just as much to be said in silence as there is in the notes. It’s about how you use it, and timing is everything. Silence can really draw the listener into the heart of a song. My producer Lawrence Purnell helped me understand that better.
Are there specific artists or records that shaped your approach to this debut, even subconsciously?
I mentioned a few earlier but others include Jacob Slater (Wunderhorse) – the first song I performed live (solo) was ‘One for the Pigeons’ – and Cameron Winter (from Geese). Jacob Slater has a way of storytelling that’s just phenomenal and the sound he creates with Wunderhorse is packed with emotion in the instrumentation. Cameron Winter is melodically incredible and his lyrics are ‘out there’ without sacrificing relatability and depth.
The track “Clandestine” closes the album with a sense of openness—was that intentional as a thematic statement about your future work?
Can I quote that?! I hadn’t thought about that, but Clandestine was always going to be the song that closed the album so I guess, subconsciously, yes. To bring us back to an earlier point, the space and silence in Clandestine is just an important as the sound. It finishes with a sense of openness, space to breath.
How do your live performances differ from the recorded versions of these songs?
Come and see! I love performing live and I try and play each song as though it’s the first time I’ve played it for an audience. I always intended the album to feel like I’m in the room with the listener. Bringing that intimacy is a lot easier live and a lot more rewarding because you feel the connection with the audience.
What has surprised you most about how listeners have responded to the album so far?
The personal meaning they attach to the songs, how the songs have resonated in so many different ways, and the fact they’ve discovered meanings that were beyond my original intentions. I’ve been really touched by the response to the album. It’s been incredible. It’s really hard starting out in music and each individual response makes it worthwhile.
If someone listens to this record five years from now, what do you hope they understand about who you were at 18?
Firstly, I hope it encourages any aspiring musician that they can do it. I’m always going to look back and be proud I recorded this album. However, I don’t think it’s about what anyone knows or understands about who I was, to me it’s about how a particular song can help them make sense of their own feelings and emotions.
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